Dragon Age: Rebellion
by weeza29745
Summary: The tale of the unlikely party that gathered in Val Royeaux, Orlais, and how they would alter Thedas forever. (Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Dragon Age or Bioware. There will be little to no characters from previous Dragon Age games/movies/comics/books.)
1. The Dilapidated Alienage

A/N

Disclaimer: I do not own any parts of Dragon Age or Bioware, this story is purely for entertainment purposes.

To the readers (if there are any): You will most likely not see any characters from previous games, and if any of my information is wrong, I apologize.

In Val Royeaux, Orlais, there was an alienage. It was the largest and most dilapidated alienage in all of Thedas, with walls of stone, rough and filthy, like the streets, like the people. Guards stood watch in towers, determined to keep the vermin of society confined within walls. On the same note, the elven ghettos were a dangerous place to be for a human. Even with proper training, every elf could be a rogue when you trespassed in their streets. It was here that Lorelei and her family came to rest, tending to their loved ones in pain. The elvish stuck together in their plight, and family was far from forgotten. It was when they arrived and were locked in that their cousin, Tirith, met with them, leading them to his family home. It was a hovel, but it was cozy, and they would not have to fear, knowing that their kinsmen were watching out for them. They had come to share their expertise, teach the arts of healing to their underprivileged family members, and possibly save them from the brink of death. Tirith, their dark haired cousin, had cleverly escaped the alienage, being a mage in the White Spire Circle of Orlais, and studying at the university to become a First Enchanter to a lesser circle in Thedas. However, he greeted his family with smiles and swept them up in a crash course of Orlais. Coming from the vast, stone steppes of the Anderfels, the city was completely new to them, and they knew nothing of how life carried on in these universes.

"Cousin, dearest, how is aunt Miranthil? Where does she lay now?" Lorelei implored quietly, concerned about the family. Tirith smiled a little sadly. "She's this way. I warn you, Lore, she's not as you are used to…" He trailed off, opening the curtain for the young elf mage to observe her. There was blood splattered all over her front, the whites of her eyes were grayish, as well as her pallid skin, and brittle hair. She was not the lively young Dalish dancer she used to be, lying in a fitful sleep, eyelids fluttering. Lorelei's heart broke for her. The fair-haired little elf knelt next to her and pushed a hand against her heart, drawing on the energy inside of her, feeling a calming rush come over her, flowing into the elf on her straw mat. She could feel her chest swell under her hand, hearing a wheeze, becoming a sigh. A little preventive medicinal attention would've prevented the terrible illness that wrought havoc on her body. This enraged Lorelei, who sat and looked at her with silent tears. Who would leave someone to die like this? Surely, surely the elves had professed their fears to the guards, who had done nothing. "Ma serrannas, Lethalin." The elder elven woman clasped her niece's hand, sighing in relief as she sunk onto her mat and slept off the rest of her fever.

"H-how long has this continued?" The young elf girl whispered, and Tirith glanced at her, a tinge of pity in his eyes, "Since I left the alienage. I sacrificed so much of myself to protect my people, and I must put up this nuisance of a charade. I can't wait to reclaim this city…" He drew the hood up on his dark cloak, bound in silver, showing that his apprenticeship was approaching an end. His bright green eyes were cold, in remembrance of what the shemlens had done to their home and to their people. Lorelei nodded, slowly removing her boots to sit next to her resting aunt, her own grey eyes resting softly on her familiar face, then at Tirith as he swept away in a gust of otherworldly wind.


	2. The Templar's Mistake

The Templars had caught the scent of magic; the chase was on. They felt the lyrium hum in their veins, seeking a path to the alienage, noses sharp, like a pack of bloodthirsty mabari war hounds. They stumbled into a ramshackle little inn of places, searching in droves. They rounded up a family of elves, pulling a little Lorelei out of her aunt's room by her hair and holding her hostage. They knew not who the magic was from, only that they showed no precaution in what was "obviously" a dangerous and frivolous display of power. The Templars showed no mercy, cutting the throats of the elf's brothers, sisters, mother and father. The only one surviving was luckily under her blankets, safe and sound, while Lorelei bit back a scream, watching as her beloved family, family that meant everything to her, crumpling into nothing at the might of the Templar's blade. The young woman sunk to her knees, murmuring prayers in Dalish to their Old Gods, and the Templars paused, unsure of what to do. "Well… She's young. She'd sell well." A gruff commander said, dragging her up by the arm and through the streets. The slave trade was "illegal", but "indentured servitude" was certainly not. Before she knew it, Lorelei was stripped, washed and sold to the highest bidding noble family, in need of a new handmaiden for their daughter, Valeria, finding the elf Lorelei to be the perfect fit. They renamed her Lora, not wanting any part of her "elf nonsense". It was when she was escorted to their home in the city where the real surprise came; the Duchess herself.


	3. The Rage of Revenge

Tirith stopped dead in his tracks, reading the scroll of alienage news in the "town square", aka, a pile of dirt and a board for news. It seemed his cousin was sold, and his family was… Dead. He had only just met them, and worried for his mother's safety. He sprinted through the streets, only to find her asleep in her bed. He shook her awake, in a hurry to tell the story, as the sun was setting and he had to be at White Spire by nightfall, as not to alarm the Templars to any misdeeds. She mourned, and he left her that way, banging on a neighbor's door to come and comfort her.

_Those humans will pay. No one… Non one can take my family away from me like that anymore. I must find Lore tomorrow. And I must devise a plan to… To… To destroy them. But with what? And who? I can't risk my kin any longer, and all the criminals here are already sold property. Any out of town assassin should do nicely, as long as they are… Disposable. _Tirith picked his way over the wall of White Spire, attempting to find peace as he lay in his bunk, surrounded by the other apprentices. The only thing that he could think of was revenge.


	4. The Sovereign Assassin

"Fifteen sovereigns. A week." "Are you sure about that? McClellan offered me twenty." The noble, Cyril, was exasperated, convinced he was dealing with the most difficult rogue-assassin in all of Thedas. "Look, there are… Fringe benefits that come with this position." "Oh? And what would those be?" The rogue looked up from the shadows, previously flicking dirt from under his nails with a knife. His face was hidden, but he was obviously tall and a wisp of a man, not heavily armored, but that made him all the more dangerous. "Along with the errands I'll have you run and the spying you'll be doing, I'll need you to look after the Duchess. Now is as good a time as any for an unsuspecting party to lay an attempt on her life, with her being eligible for the throne and all." Although it was impossible to see, the rogue raised his eyebrows a fraction of a degree. "Oh?" He couldn't determine whether he would end up wanting to bed her or kill her, knowing the maintenance of… teenage girls… Anyhow, he needed a new adventure in his life, bored with the day to day lyrium smuggles and secret drops.

"You have… A deal." His grin glinted in the lantern light as he leaned forward to shake hands, molten amber eyes glowing. The nobleman shook fiercely, almost frightened by the presence, which dissipated the instant after their hands parted. He turned, regaining his composure, and carried on with his head held high.


	5. A Friendship is Formed

Lorelei sat in a side chamber, of which she was almost positive was previously a broom cupboard. She simply wore a brown sack, her golden curls messy and loose, but surprisingly clean. It wasn't long, sitting on the hardwood floor before a young lady came hurrying into the room, shutting the door behind her and peering out the peephole to something (or someone) passing by. What ever the lady was looking at, it was amusing, as she was giggling deviously. Lorelei took in her appearance with awe; the raven black waves, the porcelain skin, the soft, sweet face that turned to her eventually. The elf stood, heart beating fast, adrenaline rushing as she knew not what to do. She frantically glanced around, ready to bolt at a moment's notice as the young noble did her own assessment. And smiled. It was a lovely little smile, not deceiving (which was admittedly surprising) and it coerced a shaky smile from the elf in return.

"You must be Lora, am I correct?" The Duchess said, cocking her head to the side. She approached the shorter girl, who only came up to her shoulder. She nodded slowly, not as quick to respond. "You can speak, you know. Unless they've cut out your tongue. Wouldn't put it past them. Ha! Oh, I'm Valeria, by the way. Pleasure." Valeria curtsied and Lorelei was absolutely shocked. Common courtesy to an elf was entirely the last thing she expected from her new owner. "Ugh, let's get you out of this filthy room and those unfashionable clothes." "…Ma Serannas, my lady… You are very merciful and kind." The young elf kept her gaze at the ground. "Well someone has to be around here, don't they? Otherwise it would be very, very dim. And I am certainly not dim. Don't tell the others, okay?" She spoke the last in a whisper, with a conspiratorial glance, offering the door open for the elf.

This was a complete shocker, the Duchess was… Accommodating. Friendly. Entirely kind and… Likable. The blonde elf was escorted through the back hallways to the Duchess' quarters, and Valeria's face contained an impish grin as she ransacked her old wardrobe, looking for dresses she had outgrown. "Oh Lora, there is bound to be something _stunning _for you. You know that? Your hair, and your eyes… They're beautiful." "I apologize, my lady, I am not sure how to respond. I have never been named as such, _beautiful._ And I think that it is you that is beautiful." She blushed a little, speaking so frankly so soon. Valeria smiled, turning to continue to dig through her dresser until she came upon a hunter's green dress with silver trim. The bust was modest and it was a long ruffled skirt, with silver trim and short sleeves. It would not be appropriate for housework or drawing baths, but it was beautiful. "Look, Lora. Try it on," Valeria beckoned to the elf, who was unsure of herself. She gently slid out of her sack and into the satin gown. For the first time in her life, she felt lovely. She and Valeria looked quite the pair, rosy pink and forest green in a combination that could not act any other way than to please the eyes.

They grinned at each other, almost companions yet, and climbed onto the bed, dancing and jumping in their dresses, carefree. All the hate and anger and fear that Lorelei experienced was freed when Valeria's hand of friendship took her away from that world. Although a sold servant, she was finally free.


End file.
